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July 06, 2017 | | Comments 0

It Was A Soft Attempt

July 6, 2017

It was a soft attempt to step upon the volcano’s tail,
Yellow clouds drifted across steeples of blossom and
bone, warships and forgotten mystifying relics, perfectly
preserved, new artifacts, ripe for the Hammer of
Disappearance,

I cannot explain why I was carrying a stack of two-sided
mirrors towards a region of Existence where black-holes
stood marooned on islands made of frozen, virginal sweat,
wreathed by orange and bright, lime-green boas, perfumed
by troops of lionesses wearing garlands of gardenias,
jasmine, rose and daffodil,

Moons lay in hammocks of dark-matter, baby Jupiters
rolled in and out of the ocean, playing hide-n-seek with
newborn turtle babes, their soft diamond backs darting
in and out of Beginning’s mouth,
Two Saturns stood facing one another, intermingling their
rings, exchanging atmospheres and seismic irregularities,

Black bears, black snakes, black mice and black lace; all
were in ecstatic fashion, understood and modeled by a
Chosen-one, part ghost, part android, human, elephant-
graveyard and mother-ship of soil, water, fire, air and ether,
Its eyes shone with a billion un-ignited suns standing in
line for a spark, a chance to whisper-brag their reunion
with the Limelights of the God of God,
A little cherub came running up to me, reached up and took
my hand and said ‘Remember you can’,
I smiled and disappeared,

A coral reef sideswipes a pirate ship’s outer hull,
revealing its titanium secret within,
A cargo-hold filled with one-eyed ones, parrots on their
shoulders, one legged and soundly hermaphroditic, with
muskets tucked in belts made from the leather of creatures
no Earthling has tasted, corralled or helped deliver from a
breach-birth, loaded with bullets that birth solar systems
when shot into worm-holes,

Tobacco pipes lit, hands upon gold-coin-chests made of
diamond-wood, all singing an ancient pirate-rowing song,
all the while having the capability to launch out of the
world of muscle, time, exhaustion and rascal-ness, back into
the ivory waves where lyrics give birth to singers and
opposites feed one another sweet somethings and sweeter
nothings…

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